


The Plan's the Thing

by Sigma



Category: Alex Rider (TV 2020), Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Sexual Frustration, clumsy seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:01:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28415046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigma/pseuds/Sigma
Summary: Yassen believes Alex should learn the value of patience. Alex doesn't agree......
Relationships: Yassen Gregorovich/Alex Rider
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	The Plan's the Thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [capeofstorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/capeofstorm/gifts), [Suzie_Shooter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzie_Shooter/gifts).



> _The result of a prompt on the Discord - thanks to all my lovely discord peeps! And yes, this is sort of crack fic - enjoy!_

It was on a day when Alex was squirming still clothed on Yassen's lap, whimpering and begging to be touched, and Yassen was making a torment out of teasing him, cupping Alex's flushed face in his hands, kissing him over and over, deep, and sure, and slow that Yassen decided Alex needed to be taught a lesson in the value of patience. 

Alex is always so eager to get to the main event - typical teenage boy, no finesse. Yassen decides then and there that Alex needs to be introduced to the concept of sensuality, rather than just sex. As such, the Russian institutes a regime of no overtly sexual touches going forward, just kissing, a lot of kissing, the brushing of fingers down Alex's nape and through his hair, over his spine through his t-shirt, the nuzzles to his throat and the soft nips of skin....it's a sensory overload that's being going on for days, and Alex is going nuts with frustration. He's a teenager, for fuck's sake, he's not interested in the slow dance of seduction, or the mysteries of tantric sex. He just wants to be _touched_ , like only Yassen knows how to do, to be taken apart, hard and fast, until he's begging, and pleading, and writhing, driven out of his head with pleasurable sensation. 

It's driving Alex mad, he's half hard all the time which he can tell Yassen is amused by. But the Russian is immovable. Alex will just have to get used to the sensation of being cherished, of being sensually appreciated and taken apart, not fast and hard as the teenage likes, but bit by very, very slow bit. 

It's got to the stage though that Yassen's hand flat on the small of Alex's back, the warmth burning through Alex's t-shirt, is enough to give the teenager an erection and Alex is really not sure how much more of this he can stand. He's starting to dream elaborate plans to try and ambush Yassen in his sleep and give him a stealth blow job just to get him to escalate past this slow maddening game of deep searching kisses and glancing touches.

However, on second thoughts, the stealth blow job idea might end badly. Driven to desperation Alex finally decides he has to treat this like a mission. Operation Get Yassen to Put his Hands on my Dick. 

Finally, Alex starts to plot.

Rather than hang around the house in his normal ratty sweats, and comfortable, loose rather faded boxers, and ripped jeans he goes out shopping. He comes home with the tightest jeans he can squeeze his hips into, one's that the fellow twink in the shop assured him made his arse "look like a peach". And pairs of soft, brushed cotton and jersey boxer briefs, that sit close and hug everything. And finally short shorts that could, in certain light, if you were squinting, pass as athletic shorts (but not really), and big t-shirts with stretched out necks that hang off one shoulder, and leave the expanse of his collar bone bare on one side. He actually buys hair product and practices in the mirror for hours a look that says "possibly just fucked, or may be you should just run your fingers through my hair to check." Alex is going to _war_.

The first time he ventures out of the bedroom in nothing more than a pair of boxer briefs and one of his new oversized t-shirts he feels a little self conscious. But he brazens it out, and doesn't let it show on his face. Instead he sits down at the other corner of the couch like normal, and just like always, stretches out his legs to tuck his bare feet under Yassen's jean clad thigh. Yassen hasn't looked up from the packet of briefing papers he's reading when Alex sauntered into the room, so when he goes to drop an automatic hand on Alex's ankle he actually stills for a moment as he encounters bare skin, and not the cloth he expects. He turns his head and tracks the long length of Alex's bare legs until they disappear into his underwear and the oversized t-shirt that the teenager is wearing, and how it fetchingly leaves one shoulder bare, just ripe for someone's mouth to kiss Alex's collarbone, but merely raises an eyebrow before returning to his briefing packet. Unseen by Yassen, Alex's eyes narrow. Right. That's it. He's going to have to _escalate......._

He starts lying on the couch, not in his usual curled up ball, but instead on his stomach, propped up on his elbows to read his books, his legs kicked up, or stretched out endlessly behind him. The position may push his arse out a little in his new short shorts, or the tight grey jersey of his boxer briefs, but of course, that's purely incidental (it totally is not). Same as the fact that his t-shirt some times rides up over his arse when he scratches his back, and he doesn't always bother pulling it back down, because he's not cold, after all (actually he's hot all the time.....). Or he sprawls on his back, one leg pulled up, or knee dropped to one side because it's comfortable, not because it pulls the soft cotton of the material even closer against his skin. Some times he scratches his stomach and flashes glimpses of toned abs and pale skin. He's not sure if it's working yet, but Yassen does seem to be spending more time in the living room when he's working than usual....

Thankfully it's summer, so hanging around in minimal clothing is both comfortable and justifiable. He thinks he may be getting somewhere when he's sure he feels the weight of Yassen's eyes on his arse as he kneels down to tie his trainers. He's encased in denim so tight Alex is amazed that no one can actually trace the outline of his cock against the material and normally he would never go out in something this close fitting. But needs must.....if Yassen won't take the hint Alex is increasingly prepared to play dirty, even if it comes to pretending to flirt with other people and put the goods on display. He has absolutely no intention of going any further than flirting of course, but if he has to endure one more marathon kissing session where Yassen won't touch him under his clothes any lower than his neck, he might just go _insane_. It's like living in some form of sadistic Jane Austen novel, where the hero and heroine start swooning at the sight of the hollow of each other's throats. Alex is so het up all the time that he's started fixating on the most bizarre things, like the blue colour of the veins on the inside of Yassen's wrists, pulsing close under pale skin. He just wants to be allowed to touch the other man again, even if it's only to be allowed to press desperate kisses to those veins like some form of amorous vampire.

He goes out with his friends that night, and he knows that he's the recipient of more than a few lustful/admiring looks. But although he smiles and jokes, and goes along with the flow, he makes sure that he only dances with some girls that he's friends with, rather than the various blokes who sidle closer and try and press up against him. He gets _very_ good at evading hands that attempt to grab him by the hips and pull him closer. But he's in a good mood when he gets home, glitter from where one of his girl friends pressed her gold strewed skin against his face as a joke sparkling across his cheeks. He's in such a good mood that he doesn't even pout when Yassen drags him on to the Russian's lap again and starts up yet another exercise in frustration and stymied lust. But there's something different this time, this time Yassen jams a hand into one of the back pockets of Alex's skin tight jeans and uses that as an encouragement for Alex to rub against his thigh. Alex doesn't exactly need the urging, and comes untouched in his jeans after only a few desperate rutting minutes, Yassen's tongue in his mouth, but the rest of his body fully clothed, untouched and as aching for Yassen's hands on his skin as a man lost in the desert is for cold, clean water. But this is more action than Yassen's allowed him in _weeks_. Clearly the jeans helped. Perhaps it's time to move this little operation of his on to the next level.

Thankfully the next day is both a day when Alex and Yassen don't have to be anywhere, and it's hot, one of those endless summer days that seem to stretch out forever. Perfect for the next stage of Alex's plan. It's on days like this Alex is glad he insisted that the house they rented had a pool, because summers in Croatia are horrible without the relief of air conditioning, and dunking yourself in cool water in order to slightly reduce your body temperature. Alex wiggles into his latest purchase, his new swimming trunks, that he'd grabbed as soon as he saw them in the shop when he was on his recent frustrated lust fuelled shopping trip. They're very similar to the ones Daniel Craig wore in Casino Royale, except significantly shorter at the back to hug his arse, and a bright, eye catching red, which goes well with his golden skin, which has become increasingly tanned as the summer stretches on.

He goes for a quick swim, cutting up and down the length of the pool with brisk efficiency. The water is deliciously cool on his skin, but that's not his primary motive. Instead, he swims until he notices that Yassen has come to sit just inside the pushed back bifold doors that divide the kitchen and dining space from the outdoor patio beside the pool. The Russian is sensibly staying out of the blazing sun as he works at the casual dining table, typing at his laptop, but he's in full unencumbered view of the pool end. So Alex does a few more lengths, shows off a bit with a few tumble turns and then lifts himself out of the pool with one strong push off from the bottom and a flex of his outstretched arms, as he hauls himself out of the water and twists to sit beside the pool, head back to card the water out of his soaked hair with his hands, only too aware that the rivulets are cascading down his skin as he arches his back.

He curls to pull his feet out of the water and stands, grabbing the towel he left beside the pool earlier to make a cursory attempt to dry himself off, patting roughly at his skin. It wouldn't do to track too much water into the house, even though the heat will quickly evaporate it on the stone floors. Then he pads on silent cat feet into the house, passing by Yassen on the way with a silent smile directed at his partner (and a just as silent extra sway of his hips) as he makes his way to the freezer. It's an American style fridge freezer and he yanks open the heavy door and bends over as he searches for what he's looking for on the middle shelf. This position may or may not stick his arse out, Alex is not prepared to comment (he totally is). But whether or not it does he can feel the heavy weight of Yassen's eyes on him and face hidden by the heavy freezer door, smiles to himself with satisfaction.

There - exactly what he was looking for. With a hum of satisfaction he grabs the object of his momentary desire and straightens up, letting the freezer door swing shut behind him with a satisfying clunk. Humming to himself happily he quickly strips off the protective paper cover, discards it in the rubbish bin, and takes a long, satisfying lick, bottom to top of the strawberry flavoured ice pop he has extracted from the depths of the freezer, his tongue flattening to wrap blissfully around the head until he lets it release from his mouth with a satisfying pop, and a blissful sigh of satisfaction at the burst of cool flavour on his hot tongue, that may sound a little bit more like a moan than he would be happy issuing in a more public place.

(If Yassen won't take a hint, Alex is quite prepared to be so overt as to be ridiculous....)

Sucking enthusiastically on his ice pop and giving the occasional comprehensive lick when the drips start to gather at the bottom, Alex ghosts past Yassen again and drops down on the partially shaded sun lounger by the pool, where he continues to essentially fellate the ice pole until it's a shade of its previously robust self, worn down by the heat and the comprehensive actions of Alex's tongue as he licks and sucks away, the moist noises only emphasised by his soft sighs and quiet murmurs of pleasure at the treat. He finally licks away at the last of the ice, the coolness still pleasant on his now strawberry red tongue and puts the stick down with a sigh. He's been deliberately not looking in Yassen's direction as he was enjoying the ice pole but he's felt the flickering awareness of the Russian's gaze on his skin more and more as he worked his way down the length of the pole, the hot press of eyes. Yassen, Alex knows with the smugness of long familiarity, is not as unaffected by Alex's little performance as he is pretending to be.

Ice pole finished Alex moves onto the next stage of his plan. The sun is hot and Yassen is, after all, always badgering Alex about the importance of sun protection. So he can't complain when Alex systematically starts to apply sun tan lotion to every part of himself he can reach, starting with his toes and working up wards in thorough sweeps, leaving his long limbs gleaming with oil. He covers all of his legs without any issue, his arms, his chest, his stomach and even the top of his shoulders, but even with the best will in the world, and the contortions that he can flexibly make with his limbs he can't reach the entirety of his back. Shrugging, he gives up the attempt and flops down on his stomach on the sun bed in the full sun with a hum of contentment, sunglasses on. He'll just give it 10 minutes on his belly before he turns over. Even Yassen can't complain about that.

He only makes it to 5 minutes of peaceful dozing before Yassen's voice disturbs his slumber. "Alex." Alex ignores him. Maybe if he doesn't respond Yassen will go away. But instead the voice comes again. _"Alex"_. With a grunt of disapproval, Alex turns his head to face the kitchen. "What?" he inquires, a little grumpily. 

"Put some suntan lotion on your back. You'll burn," the Russian instructs before seemingly turning his attention back to his laptop. Alex glares at him through his sunglasses. "I have. I just can't reach all of my back, so I'm just going to do another 5 minutes on my stomach and then turn over." And he shuts his eyes and prepares to do just that only to interrupted again by the sound of a heavy sigh and Yassen muttering something uncomplimentary in Russian. "Come here then, and I'll put it on for you." A few days ago Alex would have happily bounced over like a veritable puppy at that offer, but not now. Now he has a different plan.

So instead he wriggles further down into the comfortable embrace of the sun lounger. "I'll just do 5 more minutes," he justifies with a lazily waved hand. "I'll be fine." A few seconds later, when it becomes clear to both of them that he has no intention of moving Alex hears another heavy sigh and then the soft sound of footsteps on the stone. A beat later a figure casts a shadow over his back and he grumbles. "You're cutting off the sun," he pouts. Yassen grunts in response. 

"Probably a good thing. You are starting to get pink. This is why you should always put suntan lotion on, Alexander." Alex props himself up on his elbows and gives Yassen a challenging look over his sunglasses. 

"Well, if you're that concerned, you can apply it yourself," he points out with an overly sweet smile, his eyes daring Yassen to continue. 

He can feel the other man's hesitation and inwardly smirks. Yassen's self control is far better than Alex's but he is just as susceptible to the lure of Alex's skin as Alex is to Yassen's touch. And they both know that the only way Yassen has managed to restrict them to those marathon kissing sessions has been the fact that he has insisted on keeping them fully clothed throughout. Asking Yassen to put his hands on a mostly naked, sun warmed, oiled Alex and not react, after weeks of semi-celibacy, is like asking a Labrador retriever to retrieve a chocolate biscuit uneaten. Difficult, if not almost impossible.

They stare at each other for a long minute, a game of chicken that neither is willing to back down from. Yassen may have started this exercise as a tease to teach Alex patience, but he admits to himself that it may have got a little out of hand. And Alex just _wants_. He's been as patient as is possible for a perpetually horny teenager, but it's been _weeks_ , and if Yassen doesn't touch him soon his frustration is likely to topple over into genuine irritation and hurt. And then he's not sure what he'll do, but it probably won't be anything sensible.

Eventually Yassen sighs, conceding, and reaches out a hand to grab the bottle of sun tan lotion. Perhaps he has let this go on for too long. There is a genuine amount of upset in the eyes of his Sasha and that was never Yassen's intention. So without further protest, he slides onto the sun bed and straddles Alex's thighs, sitting back and putting his weight on the back of his boy's legs and then squeezes a generous dollop of suntan lotion into the palm of his hands.

He's not actually sure which one of them makes the sort of sigh/groan he hears as Yassen's slick hands first make contact with the acres of hot, naked skin of Alex's back. He thinks it was Alex, but he's genuinely not sure. The touch of Alex's naked flesh under his hands is like a stimulant being delivered straight to Yassen's brain and groin, after weeks of not touching his partner intimately, and to his distant embarrassment, he can feel himself getting hard just at this, this long sweep of his hands against Alex's mostly nude body. Alex has no such inhibitions. He arches into the touch of Yassen's fingers immediately, with a long, throaty moan that would have sounded at home in a porn film.

So much for teaching either of them patience.

It only takes a few minutes to cover the parts of Alex's back that weren't previously protected, but Yassen finds his hands wandering as if of their own volition to the rest of Alex's back, his shoulders, down the back of his arms and letting his thumbs massage lotion into the hot nape of Alex's neck while his boy sighs and shudders underneath his touch, gloriously, addictively responsive. It's getting hot here, out under the sun's glare, although it's later in the afternoon now and Yassen can feel beads of sweat trickling down his back under his shirt, so he pauses for a second to pull the offending clothing off and lets it drop onto the patio before he goes back to massaging _(caressing)_ the whimpering body supine beneath him.

There's the heady smell of the coconut scented lotion mixed with the heat of Alex's skin, and the way the teenager's hips are rocking in little aborted thrusts against the fabric of the sun bed, as much movement as he can make with Yassen pinning him down. It's a lot, too much even for Yassen's vaunted self control after all of these weeks of his imposed semi-celibacy on them both, and Yassen finds he's leaning forward as if hypnotised to nip at the juncture of Alex's neck and shoulder, his cock hardening even further at the scent of the younger man and the taste of him, a little salty from the heat and the sweat evaporated on his skin, and wholly delicious. Alex whimpers softly when Yassen bites at him, and squirms under him as much as he is able. "Yassen. Yassen, _please_ ," he begs, and Yassen just doesn't have the willpower to deny them both any more.

He mouths hard enough at Alex's neck to leave a bruise, hands still rubbing the teenager's shoulder blades as he does so and then shifts, pressing kisses down the long channel of Alex's spine, listening to the symphony of soft murmurs and pleas and whimpers that every touch, every kiss wrings out of his partner, the change in tone when Yassen rakes blunt nails down Alex's sides, the sharp exhale when Yassen abruptly changes direction and bites sharply at the soft skin on the back of Alex's upper arms, the pants of breath when he shifts his weight further down Alex's legs so he can massage lotion into the arch of his back, press sharp kisses and nips to the slight indent of his boy's waist. Impatient, he takes a beat to toe off his shoes and unbuckle his belt. The sound of the leather slithering through the belt loops visibly makes Alex shudder in reaction, and Yassen files that response away in his brain to explore another day. His erection is uncomfortably tight against the placket of his trousers and he unbuttons and unzips impatiently, reluctant to lose contact with Alex's skin for any space of time.

He pours some more lotion on to the palm of his hands and thoroughly coats his fingers and then massages teasingly at the very base of Alex's spine where it meets his pelvis, letting his thumbs creep under the waistband of those infernal red swim shorts, pressing down into the top of the crack in Alex's peach of an arse, rubbing tantalisingly. The noise Alex makes in response is almost feral as he attempts to rut against the sun bed and Yassen smiles to himself even as he pulls those shorts down, tucking them under the curve of Alex's arse in to the crease where the soft flesh met the top of his thighs, enjoying the way the material frames the curve of that perfect peach, just begging to be bitten into. So he does exactly that, kisses his way down one downy cheek, his sun lotion drenched hands following suit, massaging and stroking as his thumbs press deeper and further down into Alex's crack. Then he bites, not gently, just to elicit the reaction he knew that he would get, the sharp, bitten off cry of pleasure spiced by that tiny edge of pain. He repeats the process on the other cheek, leaving teeth marks there too, just because he can, and he wants to and it's been far too long since he last did so.

But he's getting impatient now, as is Alex from the shuddering, unconscious movements of his body, and so he stands up just for long enough to strip off his trousers and underwear before he straddles Alex again. Thank god they went for double width sun beds, some part of his brain thinks absently, even as the rest of him is stripping off those maddening swim trunks entirely, letting his hands stroke the length of Alex's long legs as he does so before he resumes his earlier position. He pours more lotion on to his fingers and lets it drip into Alex's crack _(syrup on a peach)_ before he gets to work rubbing it in, rubbing over Alex's pink puckered hole, pressing in just a little to hear the change in Alex's breathless pleas and soft whimpers. But lotion isn't lube, and due to his own insistence he's not been inside Alex for weeks, so to just thrust into his boy would be too much -he'd hurt him, and that's not something either of them are in the right headspace to enjoy. So instead he sits back on his haunches for a beat to give Alex room to manoeuvre, murmurs quietly "On your back now Alex," and lazily strokes his hard cock as the teen shifts obediently.

Alex is hard too, of course, his cock the kind of engorged red that only comes from a lengthy period of being hard without relief, pre-come already beading at the swollen head, and Yassen eyes it, and then the pink flush that's spread across Alex chest and up to his face with appreciation. The teen's eyes are glazed and dark with lust, his chest is heaving with his shallow breaths and he's curling his nails into his palms in an effort not to reach out and touch Yassen. Taking pity on his obvious frustration Yassen leans forward, his hands caging in Alex's head on either side and kisses him hard, and deep, taking control of Alex's mouth, tongue licking in lasciviously. The position brings their pelvises almost into line and Yassen's cock brushes against Alex's, and the younger man _moans_ , deep and broken at that merest touch. "What do you want, Alex?" Yassen murmurs throatily as he pulls back from his possession of Alex's mouth. Alex squirms underneath him, arching up to get closer, hands reaching out to pull Yassen's hips down against his. 

"Please, Yassen. Please just _touch_ me." Yassen leans in again to kiss him and then pulls back again.

"Of course, Sasha." He runs a caressing hand down the side of Alex's flushed face, cupping his chin. "And then later," he instructs his boy, "I'm going to fuck you so hard that you can't walk tomorrow. Would you like that?" he enquires mildly, and Alex nods so hard that Yassen is surprised that he doesn't hurt his neck. 

"Oh god, yes...." he begs. Yassen smiles a little in satisfaction. 

"But first, let's take the edge off, shall we? It must hurt you to walk like that," he trails a blunt nail delicately down the length of Alex's painfully swollen cock and watches in satisfaction at the pooling of pre-come on the head his action elicits.

He shifts to kneel, knees apart, between Alex's thighs, arranging the younger man's legs so that the back of his thighs drape over Yassen's, and then hooks his hands under the boy's arse and pulls him closer, so that his pelvis was snug against Yassen's, bringing their erections into brushing alignment before he pours yet more lotion on his hands and then lets it drip from the bottle on to their hard cocks, coating their lengths. Yassen's breath hisses out between his teeth at the feeling of cool liquid on hot flesh, and Alex whimpers, but Yassen doesn't give them any time to dwell, just reaches down and takes both of their cocks in one slippery hand, pushing the rigid lengths together and stroking from root to tip.

It feels good, it always feels good, but even better is the expression on Alex's face when he does this, the wide eyes, the red cheeks, the swollen mouth and bitten lips, the delicate skin around the boy's mouth chapped from the ministrations of Yassen's mouth and the trace of 5 o'clock shadow he was sporting. Why he has denied himself this pleasure, of seeing Alex Rider at his most open and exposed for so many weeks, Yassen has no idea.

Yassen leans forward, grinding his pelvis against Alex's as he leans in to steal a kiss, which Alex gives him, panting into the Russian's mouth as Yassen sets up a maddening rhythm, stroking from root to tip on both their cocks, the jerk of palm and fingers against cock lubricated by copious amounts of sun tan lotion, and increasingly pre-come from both of them. Alex's flush is deepening and his hands are fisted into the fabric of the sun lounger, his hips moving with the hard thrusts of Yassen's pelvis against his, his lips parted, a litany of whimpers, pleas and begging moans spilling from his mouth as he tries not to come too soon. But Yassen is merciless, curls over on himself and bites sharply at Alex's nipples, and that edge of pain, that sudden bright spark is just too much and Alex squirms desperately. 

"Yassen," he moans, "I'm going to come." Yassen merely gives a firmer pull to Alex's cock in response. 

"Then come, little Alex. It will not be your last time tonight." And with that promise of more orgasms being extracted from his only too willing body by Yassen's skilled ministrations Alex gives in, arches his body in pleasures, cries out in the now cooling quiet of the sunset lit garden and comes in a splatter, over Yassen's encompassing fist and his own stomach, over and over again, as Yassen milks him through it, until it feels like he's drained his own brain out through his dick, the pleasure echoing on and on until he collapses, spent.

Yassen releases Alex's rapidly softening cock from his grip, but takes a second to run his fingers through the warm spend on Alex's stomach and add it to the lubrication that he's using to fist himself to completion. Now he only has to stretch his fingers around his own length he can pull harder and quicker and he rapidly brings himself to the edge and then shifts so that when he comes, he splatters all over Alex's stomach and sternum, white spend striping the boy's lotion soaked skin in streaks as Yassen grunts in pleasure, and then stills as the last of his release marks Alex's skin and he breaths a little heavily at the exertion. When he fully comes back to himself Alex is watching him, dark eyes wide and hazy with contentment, mouth still swollen from his kisses and cheeks flushed, hair dishevelled. He looks thoroughly debauched, completely fucked. And.....somewhat smug.

After a moment, he stretches in place like a cat and that smug look deepens. Yassen raises an amused eyebrow at him. 

"What?" he rumbles softly in enquiry. Alex just smiles, increasingly widely, the cat that has got the proverbial cream, and shrugs. 

"Oh nothing. I was just thinking of a film I once saw." Yassen frowns at him, puzzled. 

"Right now?" his tone indicating his disbelief. Alex's grin widens into a smirk. 

"Oh yeah," he responds airily. "There's this great quote I love." Yassen gives him a dry look, even as he leans down to steal a kiss. Alex laughs, and hooks his arms around Yassen's neck to hold him closer, casually affectionate, and crosses his feet behind Yassen's hips, hanging on like a limpet. 

“Enlighten me, please," Yassen murmurs as he steals another kiss. Alex sniggers. 

"It's just," he kisses Yassen back. "I love it when a plan comes together," and then laughs again at Yassen's unimpressed eyeroll. 

Patience can go hang. Alex will take plotting any day.

_Finis._

**Author's Note:**

> _Please review and let me know if you liked it!_


End file.
